Page 72 of Yearning For Her

Jamie folded her arms on the table and held Willow’s gaze. “I know. But if you don’t take the chance, you could miss out on something truly amazing. Love doesn’t come without pain. Sometimes, they really are one in the same. But you have to take that leap, Willow. And you know that I’m a phone call away, any time.”

Willow smiled. “I know you are.”

Who was Willow trying to kid? She and Kian were dating, no matter how often she tried to deny it. And she…wasn’t mad about it. But she was anxious. Everything could go so, so wrong, and her heart was already far too invested.

It had been from the beginning.

“Also”—Jamie sipped from her soda—“you can tell him that if he hurts you, I’ll be coming after his ass.”

Willow almost snorted. Considering what he was, she highly doubted Kian would be scared of Jamie. But it sure would’ve been funny to see her friend try to intimidate him.

Jamie picked her phone up off the table and turned it over. “Shit! I’m gonna be late.” She took another big bite out of what remained of her fajita. “Sorry, didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

“Don’t worry about it. I got the bill this time.”

“Thank you.” Sliding out of the booth, Jamie embraced Willow. She pulled back, slipped her handbag onto her arm, and stuffed her phone inside. “I’ll call you to get those pedicures set up, okay?”

“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you then.”

“Great. See you later!”

Willow waved and grinned. “Don’t be making sexy eyes at Brian.”

Jamie playfully gagged before she turned and hurried toward the exit, weaving between the tables.

As Willow waited for the waiter, she munched on her salad and chips. She was in no rush. She didn’t have any clients scheduled today, didn’t have any other plans. It was a day off for her. Maybe she’d do a little window shopping while she was in the city, or even stop by her favorite antique store.

“Anything else I can get for you?” the waiter asked as he stopped at the table.

Willow looked up at him and smiled. “No, I’m good.”

He nodded, returned the smile, and set the bill on the table. “Take your time, amiga.”

“Thank you.”

She twisted toward her purse, which lay on the seat beside her, opened it, and searched for her wallet. When she saw a notification on her phone, she pulled it out, and her heart quickened. A text from Kian. She unlocked the screen.

Attached to the text was a selfie of Kian, lying on a bed with black and red sheets. His head was tilted back, his lips were parted, his smoldering eyes stared into the camera, and every inch of his delicious chest was bare. One hand rested on his abdomen, as though it were sliding toward his...

Willow’s eyes rounded as she quickly clutched her phone to her chest to hide the screen.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, cheeks burning. Something wicked stirred inside her, filling her core with heat. Feeling as though all eyes were on her, as though everyone knew what she’d just seen and how her body was reacting, she swiftly glanced around the dining room.

No one was paying attention to her.

Discreetly turning away from the other diners, she glanced down and lifted her phone away from her chest. Kian’s fingers, with those sharp, black nails, pointed straight at his cock. Its base was just visible above the edge of the black sheet draped over his pelvis, which offered a tantalizing outline of the rest of his shaft. But she didn’t need to see it in it’s entirely to recall what it looked like—or what it had felt like inside her.

Willow squeezed her thighs together and looked at the text above the image.

I know you’re always thinking of me, Violet, but I want you to know that I’m also thinking of you. Thinking about those luscious thighs draped over my shoulders, thinking about your sweet cunt spread and soaking wet for me, about fucking you with my tongue.

The hollow, needy ache in her core grew, and her clit twitched. If Kian’s goal was to arouse her, he’d definitely succeeded. The image alone would have turned her on, but combined with his words? She couldn’t stop her memory from leaping back to their first night together, when he’d pinned her writhing body to the bed while he brought her to climax with his mouth.

Skin feeling much too warm, she pulled enough cash out of her wallet to cover the check and leave the waiter a good tip, set it on the table, and stood up. She tugged her skirt down as she stepped away from the table. She needed to get out of the restaurant, needed to get away from the noise, the cooking odors, and all the potential prying eyes.

When she got outside, she drew in a deep breath. The air was cooler out here than in Casa Roja, which felt wonderful upon her heated skin, but it didn’t temper the inferno in her core.

A surprising realization struck her as she walked away from the restaurant.

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